The Chicken
by talking-eye
Summary: Burke and Cristina at their apartment. What happens after she asked him to put the chicken back into one piece? Following episode 3.03. Oneshot.


This happens right after 3.03. At Burke's apartment, Cristina was telling Burke to work hard on his rehabilitation... I do not own any of the characters. They belong to ABC.

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"Seriously, what made you think I would suture up a dead chicken?

"You operated on a turkey last Thanksgiving," Cristina spoke matter-of-factly as she prepared to chop another chicken into halves.

Although he was rolling his eyes and acting like he was annoyed, deep at heart he was marvelling at his girlfriend's creativity. When Burke saw Cristina almost get hit by the chicken flying off the kitchen counter, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Crap!"

"You soiled the carpet," Still not moving an inch from the coffee table, Burke licked his upper lip.

"Right. And you're watching me as if I'm in America's Funniest Home Video," Cristina couldn't stand it anymore. She was trying to be supportive but everything had a limit.

"Do I really have to do this?" Burke threw his Starz magazine aside.

"Do you really want to stop being that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The guy who is 'that guy'. My guy. Whatever."

Instead of walking over to Burke, she stood behind the counter and crossed her arms. She wasn't sure how he would take her words but she would not make another step unless he did.

After a moment of awkward silence, Burke spoke up. "What will I get if I suture these creatures back into one piece?"

Cristina couldn't believe her boyfriend was acting like a kid now. "Like what? Candy bars and lollipops? Burke, I'm not your Mama."

"I'm glad that you aren't," Burke took a careful look at his woman and uttered that in a serious tone.

"Really? I thought you love your Mama."

Burke threw the Starz magazine away and stood up. "I do, but there are things you can't do with your mother."

Cristina raised her brows with much suspicion.

"I mean, doing stitches on a chicken."

"Oh," Cristina was expecting more as Burke walked closer. "Ok."

Silence.

"Is it really going to work?"

"The chicken?"

"My hand," Burke hesitated. "You know I was standing outside the hospital today, wondering if I'd ever be back as a surgeon."

Cristina just nodded as she tore open the suturing kit for him in silence. In the past, she would have said something like "of course you would."

"What if it really takes years before I'm well again?"

Cristina pulled a piece of thread through the head of the needle without looking at Burke, who was now standing right beside her. She wanted to tell him she would be there for him, but she knew it was not enough. It wasn't so much about her, but him. "Here, try it."

Burke took the needle with his right hand and looked intently at the bulge of white flesh. "I can't do that."

Like a mother teaching his child how to write, Cristina grabbed his hand with her small hand and started motioning towards the chicken.

Burke turned to her and quickly scanned every feature on her face without saying a word.

"Gosh, I didn't know it's so hard to suture up a chicken!" Cristina nearly cursed at the poor dead creature as they tried to put it back to one piece.

After a long pause, Burke finally said, "Maybe I should start visiting the morgue tomorrow for some cadavers."

"Really?" Cristina blinked. She had been asking him to do that for 2 weeks now but he always refused. "But what are we going to do with all these chickens?"

"We could make chicken broth."

"Burke, I am NOT going to cook. I can't cook and I'm never going to learn." Cristina had had enough of a life as his maid. She could fetch him coffee and newspaper and slippers, but cooking was never going to happen. Never.

"Not even for me?" Burke was teasing her now.

Cristina squint her eyes and pondered on it, "Anything but chicken."

"You sure?"

Without saying another word, Cristina pulled herself up the counter. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and pressed her supple lips against his. It all happened so quickly that when one chicken fell off the counter, Cristina pushed the rest down the sink.

Who cared about the chickens anyway?


End file.
